He looked at me with hunger,
But not like a wolf to a sheep,
He stared at me in awe,
Because of me he didn't sleep.

I knew he wanted me first,
He was practically a puddle,
When I shook his hand,
All he could do was stutter,

When I was intrigued,
He came a bit too near,
And he nibbled and chewed,
But I didn't have fear,

I let him inside me,
In all the ways he wanted,
I was literally wasted,
From then I was haunted,

He slapped my thighs,
And held on real tight,
He liked that noise,
When I'd squeal just right,

He'd look at my lips,
Just plump and pink,
He'd lean in and bite them,
I couldn't even think,

I couldn't stand him,
I hated him so much,
But I was defenseless,
I was lost in his clutch,

I was leashed and tied,
Lost in his lies,
I was addicted to sin,
He'd opened my eyes,

I loved how he touched me,
He knew what was right,
I hated how he held me,
It was always too tight.

Violets rage
with indigo pulses
beneath the shadows
of your parents' porch;
Spitting purple, but
soaking the rainbow
from whatever light
granted by the sun.

When I was younger
I snuck kisses to a kid
during nap time.
The teacher had to
separate us since
I wouldn't stop
kissing them.

Now eight years later
and I hate recalling the
ever so burning
memories.

People don't believe the
story.
Seeing that I'm not
attractive
and that I'm so
awkward.
They say I make it up,
but no I'm not.

I was going to marry
the kid.
I really thought I loved them.
I loved how they smelt.
Or the way they laughed.
The way they said my name made me smile.
I was a little seven year old
who fell in love.

I wonder where they are now.
But I would never know
since they shut me out of their
life.
After I left the daycare I saw them
once.
They ignored me as our mothers
spoke.
My mom got onto me for not
talking to the kid.
I couldn't bear to tell her
that I had kissed that kid
that I really had liked them.

I couldn't tell her because that kid
was a girl and I'm a girl as well.
"She'll hate me" I told myself
So I've never told her about
the shared kisses and moments
between me and that other
little seven year old.

The boogeyman sleeps on your side of the bed,
whispers in my ear "you're better off dead."
He fills my dreams with sirens and lights of regret,
and kisses me gently when I wake up in sweat.
You crossed the water, left me ashore,
it killed me enough but you wanted more.
You blew up the bridge, a mad terrorist waved from your side.
You threw me a kiss.
I tried to follow, but realized too late,
there was nothing but air beneath my feet.
Finally I felt beat.
First you inspected me,
then dissected me,
at last you rejected me.
I wait for the day that you will resurrect me.